


written into the stars

by sweaters (cuimhl)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuimhl/pseuds/sweaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Even if the world conspired against us, I could not falter, because,” Bokuto pauses for effect, “Akaashi, you <i>are</i> my world.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	written into the stars

**Author's Note:**

> an excuse to write a dramatic (and overdone) Bokuto, but I had a lot of fun with this. Hope you enjoy!

“Akaashi! Hey, Akaashi!”

Akaashi ignores the voice in favour of buttoning up his shirt instead. It’s been a longer practice session than normal, and sweat is making the cotton stick uncomfortably close to his skin. Just the very thought of wearing his school blazer makes him itchy all over, but thinking about the cold winter air outside quells the disgust. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to quell the voice.

“Akaashi!” At last, Bokuto shoves his way through the changing room and barrels into Akaashi like a twelve-ton monster, still in his practice clothes and emanating heat in waves that follow the rise and fall of his chest. Akaashi sets his gaze somewhere beneath Bokuto’s collarbone, avoiding his eyes. He knows what will be asked of him, and there’s not even anything he can do about it.

Sure enough, “How about a bit more spiking practice?”

The residual heat of bodies and perspiration congesting in the small space is all that’s left as everyone else departs swiftly and predictably. Akaashi heaves a sigh.

“I’m already changed, Bokuto-san,” he replies pointedly, but Bokuto will not be deterred.

“You don’t need to be in practice clothes to toss balls! Please, _Akaashi_ , just a few! I promise.”

Akaashi peers out of the doorway, which he can just see behind Bokuto’s right shoulder. Sarukui and Konoha are staring back at him a good ten metres away, bags slung over their shoulders. He resigns himself to another long evening.

“Sure, Bokuto-san,” he concedes, because he’s never been good at saying no to him. “Just five tosses, yes?”

“Thanks, Akaashi! You’re the best!”

He tosses and tosses, lost in the vibrant energy of movement and consecutive successes, as well as the triumphant, open-mouthed grin that Bokuto sends his way after a particularly impressive spike.

The faculty advisor comes around and doesn’t even give a double-take anymore, just reminds him cordially to lock up and not stay too late.

It’s been two and a half hours since practice ended, but with Bokuto, practice never really does.

 

-

 

“Did you talk him into extra practice again?” Komi gives Akaashi a sympathetic glance as he directs the question to an over-eager Bokuto, hitting serves to warm up.

“Of course! Akaashi will always be my side; we are a love that has been written into the stars!” Bokuto punctuates this with an especially strong serve, pounding the parquet court on the other side and effectively executing a home-run.

“Shame,” comments Onaga as he steps into the gymnasium in his practice clothes. “That was a nice serve. But,” he raises an eyebrow at Akaashi who exhales in response, “What makes you think that it’s been written into the stars?”

No one even blinks at Bokuto’s obnoxious declarations of love nowadays, not after Akaashi announced that they were dating a good few months back. At the time, he’d done it with charming simplicity while his newfound lover cowered in a corner of the gym, hiding a beetroot blush behind square fingers. The team had almost not been surprised at all, but they did react with some astonishment when Bokuto announced his marriage plans not a day after being too embarrassed to say a word on the topic of dating Akaashi.

“Only the empty-headed are loud,” Akaashi had remarked to the wall, and Bokuto won him over with first a gentle choke-hold and then a public kiss.

He doesn’t do that during practice now, which Akaashi is thankful for. It disrupts his rhythm with the rest of the team, and his hands shake when he tosses to the ace - not at all a calming move.

This latest quip by Onaga has floored the talkative owl. Bokuto lets the volleyball in his hands fall to the ground, with a loud slapping sound that echoes through the gym.

“S-star signs,” he stammers at last, fumbling desperately for an answer, because it is a crime not to have a reason for loving any inch of Akaashi.

Konoha chooses this moment to gang up on the quivering Bokuto. “Do you even know what they are?” he asks in amusement as Akaashi wordlessly ties the end of a net to the third court. He’s not so much tuning out as distantly curious, wondering what sort of reply will be enticed out of Bokuto. He doesn’t know much about star signs himself - only that perhaps a more accurate moniker would be ‘sun signs’.

“I don’t,” Bokuto snaps back, bending down to pick up the volleyball he dropped. “But there’s definitely something fateful about me and Akaashi! We are star-crossed lovers, after all.”

“Bokuto,” exclaims Konoha delightedly as Onaga cracks up. “Star-crossed refers to the likes of Romeo and Juliet, and it means that a pair of lovers can _never_ be together because the stars forbid it.”

Akaashi tunes out the rest of the conversation as their coach arrives and calls them to stretches a minute later.

Throughout practice, Bokuto is a degree less rowdy, and his spikes have little power. Coach pulls Akaashi over for a quiet talk, but Akaashi assures him that it’s just a minor thing - the sadness of a simpleton, so put.

Bokuto does not pester him for extra spiking practice afterwards, and Akaashi feels a little lonely walking home before sunset.

 

-

 

During lunch break the next day, Akaashi is quietly working his way through the contents in his homemade bento and minding his own business in the middle of a busy classroom, when Bokuto disrupts all that is balanced in the world.

“Akaashi Keiji!” he roars from the doorway, and a few second-years back away into the recesses of the room.

“Please don’t make a fuss here, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mourns the loss of a tranquil lunchtime comprised of rewriting class notes and listening to Debussy’s _Claire de Lune_ for the fiftieth time on repeat. However, he does this without complaint and wraps up his bento box with quick, efficient movements before guiding his upperclassman outside.

“The roof?” he suggests, and Bokuto visibly swallows whatever outrageous announcement he had been planning on making.

Akaashi is already proud that his baby owl - for that is what Bokuto is to him, in the dark corners of his mind - can hold his outburst in for so long.

As soon as they are out into the open air, Bokuto throws his arms up and runs ahead, yelling into the open blue sky. It’s unnecessarily chilly out, but Akaashi figures that he’ll be warm soon enough. That is, if Bokuto would sit down next to him and share a bit of his kotatsu-esque heat with his dismally cold _kouhai_.

“Akaashi! Akaashi!”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi sits himself down, wincing at the cold concrete beneath him, and looks up into a wide-eyed Bokuto, who settles down beside him.

“Star signs, they,” he wriggles his fingers in the air for emphasis but all that comes out of his mouth is a confused garble. Akaashi waits patiently for him to sort out the syllables.

“Star signs,” he repeats, “We are not fated in the stars! Akaashi, WE ARE NOT FATED IN THE STARS.”

His voice climbs in volume steadily until he is shouting just centimetres away from Akaashi’s eardrum.

“How so?” Akaashi gingerly picks at his food, unable to decide if he should be more concerned by the content of Bokuto’s tantrum, or more concerned by his overblown reaction.

“Well, you see,” Bokuto splays his left hand and inspects it like he’s solving morse code. Akaashi cannot for the life of him think how this relates to the subject.

“I’m a Virgo-Libra cusp and you’re a Sagittarius, right?”

Akaashi at least knows that much, so he nods, “Yeah?”

“Well,” Bokuto puffs up his cheeks for a moment like he’s fit to burst. “Sagittarius is only compatible to other fire signs like Aries and Leo, and other air signs like Libra, Gemini and -”

He breaks off.

“What’s that other one? You know, the one that sounds like ‘swimming pool.’”

“Aquarium, you mean, and the star sign is Aquarius,” Akaashi supplies helpfully.

“Yeah, that! So, I’m only _half_ compatible with you, romantically. Akaashi, what do you think of that?”

Akaashi considers for a moment. He’s never cared a great deal for horoscopes - astrologists and their star readings can be creepily accurate for all they like, but he insists on deciding his own fate. If it matters this much to Bokuto, though, he figures it deserves sizeable contemplation.

“I think I’m lucky to even be half compatible with you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies coolly, and it’s true. He wouldn’t be that surprised if they weren’t compatible at all, but he does not doubt for a moment Bokuto’s ability to persevere and transcend the limitations set by the stars and planets.

“Lucky?!” Bokuto throws his head into his hands and doubles over with his elbows resting in the crook of his crossed knees. “It’s a tragedy, Akaashi! What if, one day, the stars get it into their heads to rip us apart because we’re not _fully_ compatible? What if you find someone fully compatible and leave me?”

“What if _you_ find someone fully compatible and leave me?” Akaashi asks curiously, because he wants to know.

Bokuto sits up so quickly that Akaashi is worried that he’ll be winded by the sudden movement. Not that it’s necessary to worry - Bokuto has lungs the size of water tanks, which Akaashi has learned long ago through prolonged kisses during which he honestly feared for his life.

“I could never!” He seems horrified by the very idea. “How could I ever? Even if the world conspired against us, I could not falter, because,” he pauses for effect, “Akaashi, you _are_ my world.”

He beats a closed fist against the right side of his chest, and Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to remind him that said organ is on the left.

“Did you get that line from Kuroo?” he asks skeptically, and Bokuto narrows his eyes at him for a moment before capitulating with a little nod.

“But don’t drive me off topic!” Bokuto picks himself up again very quickly and stares holes into Akaashi’s face. “Promise me you will never leave me for someone more compatible in the eyes of the damning stars! Give me your everlasting word, Akaashi Keiji.”

Akaashi twists his mouth into a half smile, half frown. “Is that a marriage proposal, Bokuto-san?” he inquires politely and Bokuto nods again, like a bobble-headed owl figurine.

He wonders if he’s signing away his life. Then he wonders if that’s such a bad thing.

“I give you my word, Bokuto Koutarou,” he says solemnly and Bokuto sighs dramatically.

“Ah, but Akaashi, I’m afraid I can’t take it.”

“What?”

“How can you know so early on whether you will fall for someone more compatible than me? How can I take your word for it, as honourably as you offer it to me?”

Akaashi thinks to himself, dimly, that if he were any less amicable in nature, he might be tempted to sock him one.

Instead, he doesn’t reply and turns his attention back to his lunch.

“No but seriously, Akaashi,” Bokuto still hasn’t exhausted the subject. He has few compunctions about invading so-called personal space, and leans in right up against Akaashi, pale hair obscuring the view of his innocent rice and vegetables.

“I’m really worried! Say, if you found, like, a full Libra - I’m only half, remember - and eloped with him when I turned my back? You could be so consumed by passion that you’d forget your vow to me in the blink of an eye and - oh! I could never turn my back on you again, could I, Akaashi? This is dangerous territory. I wonder who’s a Libra?”

“Kozume Kenma,” he responds, digging gratefully back into his food when Bokuto sits back on his heels to think. “Nishinoya and Tsukishima from Karasuno, too.” He knows this from looking at player files before entering each match.

Bokuto stares at him, agape. “You even know who they are,” he cries, crawling back with his hands and dirt-dusted backside. “The stars are conspiring against me! Akaashi, know that I -”

“Where,” Akaashi interrupts calmly, “Is your lunch?”

Bokuto freezes. “Lunch hour rush,” he gasps, realisation dawning on his face. “Yakisoba today, gotta run,” his eyes don’t leave Akaashi’s face as he clambers to his feet, gripping the railing behind him for support and backing into the door, yanking it open, and dashing away.

Akaashi sighs and eats his lunch in peace.

 

-

 

It’s not that he isn’t bothered by this discovery, though – certainly not for himself, but for Bokuto, yes. The ace remains in despondent spirits for the entirety of after-school practice, everything about him toned down a good inch.

“Is he okay?” Komi whispers to Akaashi when they go outside for a drink, and Akaashi looks back at Bokuto, who is bouncing volleyballs off of the walls and missing every one. “I’ll talk to him,” he decides, and the rest of the team looks relieved when practice ends and Akaashi volunteers to stay behind and clean up with Bokuto.

“Come on, liven up,” Konoha and Onaga slap Bokuto good-naturedly on the back as they make their way out after changing, and Washio gives him a nod. He waves back with a half-hearted smile and slumps his shoulders as he drags his feet across the gym floor towards the storage room.

“No spiking practice today?” Akaashi asks, hoping for a bit of familiarity to perk Bokuto up, but he only shakes his head slowly in reply.

“Got stuff to do,” he murmurs, and looks up with the expression of a kicked puppy.

Akaashi is just about fed up with it.

He endures a few more long minutes of watching Bokuto push the trolley of volleyballs towards the storeroom with his feet sliding over the wooden floor, eyes unfocused and whole body curved inwards like a perpetual question mark.

Finally, when the volleyballs are safely enclosed inside the storeroom and Bokuto trudges towards the changing rooms, Akaashi runs up to him and curls his fingers around the collar of his dingy practice shirt. He pulls him along, disregarding the surprise that comes alive in Bokuto’s otherwise hollow gaze, and pushes him up against the wall.

“Bokuto-san,” he says seriously, and Bokuto swallows.

“Why have you been moping?”

“I haven’t been,” Bokuto denies furiously, and Akaashi pins his floundering with a look that says _I’m not buying it_.

“No,” Bokuto continues, “I really haven’t. I’ve just been thinking, is all.”

“Aren’t they kind of the same thing?” Akaashi comments dryly and it takes a moment for Bokuto to register the insult, but register it he does - his eyes widen like golden dinner plates and he sputters a few incoherent responses indignantly. Then, he sags against Akaashi’s fist in his shirt, and he sighs.

“I can’t help it,” he says, “I really thought that everything would be perfect right after I asked you out. I worked so hard just to get the courage to ask! Kuroo stayed up with me for countless late nights just to work out _how_ I would word it, you know? After it happened, I was so glad; I thought that everything else, we could handle as a team. There would be nothing we couldn’t conquer!”

“Why has your opinion changed?” Akaashi asks, brows knitting together. By his reckoning, they should be fine.

Bokuto stares at him like he’s sprouted another limb. “The _stars_ are against us, Akaashi, you can’t fight the _stars_ through volleyball and h-holding hands. It doesn’t work that way!”

There’s one thing that doesn’t really work itself out in Akaashi’s head: Bokuto is not one to be dismissed by the likes of fate. Thus, he waits for Bokuto to keep talking, because there must be more.

After a few deep breaths, Bokuto admits, “I’m never sure if you love me as much as I love you.”

_Ah._

Akaashi loosens his hold on Bokuto’s collar and reaches with his other hand to touch his face, but Bokuto pushes him away. “Let me finish, Akaashi.”

He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor, and looks anywhere but at the person standing in front of him.

“It’s not your fault,” he begins quickly and in a rush, “But I’m just so hopelessly needy, right? I have this crippling desire to be praised and loved, and I’m always _demanding_ your attention. Lately, I’ve been -” he breaks off, and his gaze skitters up to meet Akaashi’s for a second before flying away just as quickly.

“Lately, I’ve been wondering if you _want_ to give that attention. Because it’s not like you’re overly affectionate, you know? That’s not a bad thing!” He waves his hands quickly in the air.

“It’s one of the reasons I like you so much, because that whole green-eyed mysterious vibe has an edge, a sexy edge, but.” Bokuto fiddles with the front of his shirt, twisting it between his ungainly fingers.

“Do you love me?”

Akaashi almost misses the question; it’s hushed and fast, a meld of syllables that untangle themselves into a one-syllable answer.

“Yes.”

Bokuto lets him touch him, lets Akaashi card his fingers through his white and black hair, which is softer than it looks. Bokuto melts under his touch but there’s something broken in the way he doesn’t dare to move an inch or make a sound, acting like a newborn chick when its shell has cracked open.

Akaashi sighs softly, and leans forward to rest his chin on Bokuto’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispers into his ear, and Bokuto shivers. Then, Akaashi draws back and tilts his chin up so that they’re staring eye-to-eye, even if Bokuto is ever the taller one.

He’s never doubted for a moment that he loves Bokuto, even when he doesn’t like him. He was naive to think that his walls would just topple when he’s been working so hard to strengthen his defenses, though, so Akaashi tries to make amends. Two steps forward, one step back.

“Of course I love you, Bokuto-san, even though I don’t really like your extended spiking sessions.” Bokuto is still staring at him like he’s waiting for the second shoe to fall, and Akaashi wants to kiss away the fear in his eyes. It’s never been there before, or if it has, he’s never noticed.

“I love the way your hair splays across the pillow and you drool and snore at the same time when you sleep,” Akaashi smiles at the memory. “I love how you have to spend twenty minutes in front of the mirror trying to make your hair stand up just right, and how you’re always ebullient to the point of being a little boorish. I love,” he brushes a stray lock of hair from Bokuto’s brow, “How you can always find me when I hide.”

“I love you, Akaashi,” Bokuto whispers hoarsely, and wraps him up in a bear hug. He sniffles into his shoulder, and Akaashi wonders if he’s imagining the odd burning sensation behind his eyes.

“Everyone says that high school loves almost always fall apart. Akaashi, I’m scared.”

Akaashi waits.

“I’d loved you for ages before I even thought about confessing, and I thought that my heart would burst when I did. What if...what if we lose that? What if we fall apart?”

“We won’t,” Akaashi says.

“That’s an empty promise,” Bokuto scoffs, and Akaashi can count the number of times he’s ever scoffed at Akaashi’s words with the fingers on his right hand. “I know I never think ahead, but _what if we do_? I don’t know if I could live if we did.”

Akaashi steps out of the hug and levels him with a hard stare. “Think about that when we do,” he tells him firmly. “It’s that simple - for as long as I am with you, I’ll love you.”

Bokuto laughs at this, pinching the bridge of his nose and swiping the back of his hand under his nose. “You’d never take my shit if you couldn’t stand it,” he agrees, and it’s less sad than the words sound.

“That’s right,” Akaashi nods affirmatively, and this time when he leans in, Bokuto kisses him.

It’s a chaste peck on the lips, but Akaashi feels himself free-falling into oblivion.

It’s a nice sort of oblivion, though, the kind where Bokuto holds his hand all the way.

Bokuto smiles into the kiss, and Akaashi tastes it like honey on his lips when he pulls away. “If this is us being half compatible,” he winks, and that’s as telling as anything that he’ll be okay.

“I wonder what we’d have been like if we were fully compatible,” Akaashi finishes for him.

Bokuto clutches his heart and stumbles forward in mock horror. “I can’t believe you even need to wonder,” he teases, “It’s a given! If the stars gave it to us straight, we’d be so grand that all the constellations would pale beside our magnificent union.”

“Whatever, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi can’t quite hide a smile as he begins to walk away, and Bokuto picks up on it.

“Say you love me, Akaashi Keiji,” he sing-songs after him.

“I love you more than the stars, Bokuto Koutarou,” Akaashi sighs, acting much put-upon.

“I don’t believe you.”

Akaashi turns so quickly that his head spins, and Bokuto is only centimetres away, invading his personal space like he belongs there, and he probably does.

“I love you more.”

Akaashi kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was meant to be funny...but then it got emotional, and it ended on toothache-inducing fluff. at least, if it worked?  
> thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


End file.
